Triumph

by Heather Graham

  Even in the South, people were becoming wary of Confederate currency.

  If he had, however, run into Rebel troops, it wouldn’t have mattered. His papers certified his right to be here. He’d been assigned to the state by his own government. He’d been requested for the negotiations by none other than his old West Point professor Robert E. Lee. There had been few men he had admired like Lee, and owing to his exceptional marksmanship, Taylor had piqued Lee’s interest. He had been a guest at Lee’s beautiful home, while he had hosted the Lee family himself once at his father’s Washington town house. He knew what it had cost Lee to leave the Union; the greatest Southern general of them all had been loath to break up the country. But he fought for the South, and though Taylor disagreed with his decision, he had to respect it, just as he prayed that Lee respected his decision to stay with the Union.

  Taylor was glad to be leaving the main body of the war behind—at least for a time. He had a pleasant assignment for a change. Visiting a fine house, enjoying Christmas Eve dinner in the company of good people, and making arrangements for exchanges—a matter of life, rather than of battle, blood, and death.

  He had been to Cimarron once, years and years ago, having come with James McKenzie, his mother’s first cousin.

  “Taylor!”

  He was startled to hear himself suddenly and cheerfully hailed. Seeing the rider who raced across the long sloping lawn toward him, he grinned and waved in return with pleasure and surprise.

  A moment later a handsome black stallion came to a perfect halt before him, and he found himself greeting Ian McKenzie, heir to this vast empire—should it, and he, survive the war.

  “Ian!” he greeted his old friend. “By God, what are you doing here? Indeed, what am I doing here if you’re here—now that’s the real question!”

  Ian dismounted from his horse, blue eyes alight as he approached Taylor, extending a hand in welcome. Taylor accepted it and leapt down from Friar, embracing the other man briefly, then drawing back with a grin. “Well, you look hale and hardy.”

  “Much to the chagrin of my brother, I believe,” Ian said, smiling as well. “Before becoming his wife, my sister-in-law apparently mentioned that I was the ‘stronger’ looking of us two, which Julian took rather offensively. I’m afraid that our side is known to eat better, although I’m quite sure, were he able to make it home more often, my mother would see to it that none dared call him slim.”

  “Cimarron remains as impressive as always,” Taylor said. “I’m sure he could become fat as a house himself were he able to remain. How are the rest of the McKenzies—have you any news? I’d heard that Sydney married Jesse Halston and was living in Washington, but I wasn’t able to see her before I was sent here.”

  “Sydney is well; I saw Jesse after Gettysburg,” Ian said gravely. “She’d been getting into a few fixes, helping the family out of Old Capitol, until she managed to find a place in prison herself. He’s responsible for her now, and I’m assuming he’ll be a good influence.”

  “Good—to our way of seeing the world,” Taylor commented.

  “Good as in safe,” Ian said flatly.

  “Safe is certainly good,” Taylor said. “But what are you doing here? I wouldn’t have needed to come if—”

  “Well, then, I’m glad that no one, including me, knew that I might be able to make it here for the holiday,” Ian said. “I promise you, there will be no hardship in spending Christmas with my family.”

  “I’d certainly not meant to imply such a thing. It’s just that—”

  “You’d asked not to be sent to the state, right?” Ian said.

  “A request long granted, now denied,” Taylor agreed. “I find it very difficult to be here.”

  Ian studied him. “For many reasons, I imagine,” he said quietly. “Well, still, for the holiday, we’re glad to have you here. My parents are delighted.”

  “They remember me?”

  “My father forgets almost nothing, which can be quite a thorn in the side, since he can remind us all of transgressions many years gone by!”

  “How does he manage with your brother a Rebel, and our mutual cousins casting their lots with the South?”

  Ian hesitated just briefly, studying Taylor’s face. “He watched his own brother battle an unrelenting army during the Indian wars—he has no quarrel with his brother, or his brother’s children. As to Julian, he is glad that his younger son is a healer rather than a killer. And my sister—”

  “She remains at home, with your parents? I must admit, I don’t remember her. She was but a babe in arms, I think, when I came here with James. And I don’t think she ventured to my mother’s place with you when we were all children.”

  “Tia. She was just a toddler when you visited here with Uncle James all those years ago. She is home; you will meet her now. And thankfully, you will do so in my father’s presence, for she seldom argues with him. In her heart she believes herself a Floridian first, rather than a Confederate, but certainly not a Unionist! She helps Julian with his injured, and so my parents believe her safe in his keeping, although I don’t think they realize how often they might be parted. I worry about her frequently, but I do trust my brother to keep her well behind the lines.”

  “I haven’t asked about your wife and children,” Taylor said.

  Ian’s smile was very quick then. “They are here. They arrived just a few hours ago. In fact, I had just left Alaina sleeping and come out for a ride when I saw you emerge from the trail. My God, but it was good to see my wife—” He broke off abruptly, looking downward as if he inwardly cursed himself for his thoughtlessness.

  “I’m sorry—”

  “Don’t be,” Taylor interrupted quickly. “I would be a sorry fellow to despise others for their happiness. I shall be delighted to see Alaina. And your little ones. The boy is Sean, right?”

  “Sean is now nearly three, and Ariana is almost two. They are pure mischief,”

  “Good for them.”

  “Come along to the house.”

  Taylor led Friar alongside Ian as they approached the rear of the house. At this time, it appeared that the docks by the river were quiet; all in fact, seemed quiet.

  “How does your father manage here?” Taylor asked.

  “Without the Florida Rebs burning him to the ground?” Ian asked.

  “Frankly, yes.”

  “Well, he’s acted as a go-between upon many an occasion. He hasn’t involved himself in any espionage activity—in short, he’s done nothing illegal.”

  “That hasn’t always stopped either side from burning out those they consider to be traitors.”

  “Well, there’s also the matter of his employees,” Ian said.

  Taylor grinned. “I knew I was being watched—before you appeared.”

  “By at least a good twelve men:” Ian pointed to the loft of the barn far beyond the rear of the house, and to a guard tower along the river. “My father is like a nation unto himself. Throughout the years, he has gained the unquestioning loyalty of dozens of men. He has given work to outcasts, foreigners, blacks, Indians, Asians, and good white men of vision. The South would have to be able to spare a small army to take my father down; that time has not as yet come. I pray it never will. Then, again, to the Rebel forces, my father has bred one traitor—me. But my brother is known to save more lives than they can acquire in recruits these days, and my sister is wildfire and passion and adored by anyone who comes in contact with her—who would burn down the home that belongs to such ardent Rebels as well?”

  “I imagine the danger remains.”

  “Always,” Ian agreed. “Mark! Mark Espy, where are you, lad? My God, it’s getting foggy tonight. Mark, come take our horses to the stables, will you, please? And show Colonel Douglas how well we care for our animals here!”

  “Yes, sir!” A young, mixed-blood stableboy came running from the mist that had settled around the wide verandah that encircled the great plantation house. He grinned, taking Friar’s reins from
Taylor.

  “’Andsome fellow, sir!” the lad complimented.

  “Thank you. Friar is his name; he’ll be glad of a warm stall.”

  The boy grinned, leading the horses away. Even as he did so, the rear door of the house opened and banged. Two little urchins came running out into the mist, heedless of it, fast as cannon balls. They were followed by the whir of a woman, racing after them.

  “Sean! Ariana! Don’t you follow your brother when he’s being bad, young lady! Your grandmother told you to stay in the house. Hey, you hellions! Ian, you wretch, you got the child you deserved—he doesn’t listen to a thing. Ariana, you are a sweetheart, good girl. Stay here, on the porch—naturally you’re an angel! Now you, come here, Sean, don’t you disappear on me in this wretched fog!”

  The voice was familiar.

  She didn’t seem aware of Taylor or Ian because she was so intent on tearing after the little boy who was squealing with wild pleasure as he raced outside, eluding her pursuit.

  “Tia, it’s all right. I’m here, I’ve got him,” Ian said, scooping up the boy.

  “What?” she cried, still running, apparently afraid she would lose the child.

  Suddenly, the fog whirled and lifted.

  She came flying through it, crying out as she saw a full-grown man in her path. She couldn’t stop her impetus.

  She plowed head-on into Taylor. He tried to catch her, lost his own balance, and fell backward to the ground.

  He stared at her.

  She stared at him.

  Huge, thick-lashed dark eyes widened against the sculpted ivory pallor of her face.

  He stared back, stunned.

  She screamed, trying to rise.

  He didn’t let her. For a brief moment, his fingers vised around her arms. And he smiled grimly.

  “Godiva!” he said softly.

  Chapter 7

  “TIA, IT ISN’T THE whole Federal army, coming to take your precious South,” Tia heard her brother say.

  No, this was worse.

  He was really there. The dreaded no-name Yank. He was on her lawn. Touching her again. He knew her. He knew Ian. He was here, at her father’s house.

  Oh, God ...

  She was staring down into his tawny eyes, eyes that seemed to glitter and narrow now like the devil’s own. She could feel the force in his fingers, feel the length of him beneath her. She wanted to yell at God. What was this wretched irony?

  Ian was reaching down to help them both. His son clung to his neck. Even as he leaned over, Taylor came quickly to his feet, drawing her up along with him. She was so shaken she couldn’t stand. He steadied her; she shook him off.

  “Tia!” Ian said sharply.

  She closed her eyes, looking down, fighting to breathe. It was her father’s house. There were to be negotiations here, discussions that would free Rebel prisoners.

  Oh, good God, he could give her away! And he might share the “rumor” that “Godiva” had appeared again, disconcerting and confusing the Yankee troops when they should have been in hot pursuit of Dixie and his men.

  “I—I—” she stuttered, teeth chattering, face surely as ashen as death.

  “Tia, I don’t believe you’ve ever met Colonel Taylor Douglas,” Ian was saying sternly. “He is more than a guest; his grandmother is Uncle James’s aunt. As I mentioned before, he is a cousin to our own cousins.”

  “No—no. We haven’t met!” she said quickly. She stared at the wretched enemy who was now a guest in her own home. He would give her away, certainly, and he would take pleasure in the disaster he would cause!

  “Miss McKenzie,” he said, politely doffing his plumed cavalry hat and bowing. He rose, staring at her again. “Of course, we have met.”

  “I ... I ... I ... no, we couldn’t have. I would have remembered. I don’t know many Yankees, I ... I ... I ...”

  He smiled politely, arching a brow as her voice trailed off. She had run out of words.

  He shook his head. “How sad you don’t remember!

  “You have met?” Ian inquired. Her brother sounded very suspicious, Tia thought.

  “No ...” Tia protested.

  “You were a babe-in-arms,” Taylor said pleasantly, “so I can understand why you’ve no memory of my coming here.”

  She felt dizzy. Weak-kneed with relief. And yet by the way he was smiling at her ...

  He could still give her away.

  Her jaw seemed locked. It was an effort to speak. “Welcome to Cimarron, Mr. Douglas. If you’ll excuse me, I left Ariana on the porch. Sean McKenzie, come with me, and leave your father be with his guest. We’ll go on in and find Gram, shall we?” She took Sean from his father. Her three-year-old nephew offered her a beautiful smile, curling his fingers into the length of her hair. “Auntie Tia, cookie, please!”

  He was an angel now. Why not—he’d brought her running out straight into the arms of the very devil himself.

  She spun around, hurrying toward the house with Sean in her arms. She could hear her brother and Taylor coming behind her. She found Ariana, big blue eyes wide as saucers, on the porch, waiting for her just as she’d been told. “Come, baby,” she said, hiking up her niece as well. “Let’s go upstairs to the nursery. Where I used to play. Have you been on the rocking horse yet? A friend of your great-uncle carved it for me when I was just as big as you are now, Ariana!”

  Tia heard the men enter the house behind her; she heard her mother calling her name from her father’s den. She pretended that she did not. She hurried up the stairs with her two charges in tow. On the second floor, she noted that her brother’s door remained closed—Alaina, his wife, remained within. Alaina had arrived soon after Ian, and since the hours the two spent together tended to be scarce, Tia had at that moment decided that she was going to give her older brother the best Christmas present she could—time alone. She’d effused about how exhausted Alaina must be after having to cross the peninsula so carefully in the company of other civilians on their way to Tampa Bay. She’d swooped down on the children and told Alaina and her brother to get some rest. Of course, the last thing they wanted in one another’s company was rest, and that was surely obvious to them all. Alaina and Ian had both been very grateful—her sister-in-law’s smile had been well worth her effort. She even knew her little nephew and niece, since Julian’s Rebel camp hospital in the pines hadn’t been that far down the St. Johns River from the Yankee stronghold at St. Augustine, where Alaina lived as the war raged on. Most of the time, the children were good with her. Today, as she’d read to Ariana, Sean had grown bored—and escaped. And although there were others on the plantation who might have taken on the task of watching her brother’s precocious toddlers, she had wanted to be with them. She adored them.

  The nursery was at the far end of the hall. It was filled with cradles and cribs, books and toys, the blocks with which they had all played, the rag dolls which she herself had dragged around for years. The nursery hadn’t changed. Her parents had always assumed that their children would grow, marry, and bring home their own children. The rocking horse sat in the center of the room. “Sean, you haven’t ridden this mighty steed as yet! Take a seat, my good man!”

  Sean sat on the rocking horse. Ariana, apparently growing sleepy, curled into Tia’s arms as she took a seat in one of the large rockers. She felt her own heart thundering against her chest as she tried to remain calm. He was in her house. A guest. The no-name monster had a name and title now, and he was in her house, talking to her brother, and probably her father as well.

  “Charge!” Sean called from his rocking horse. “Charge!”

  Ariana smiled angelically at Tia and closed her blue eyes. Tia kept rocking. The door to the nursery suddenly opened. She tensed.

  “Tia?”

  She exhaled with relief. It was Alaina, a golden blond with eyes to match, a Rebel in her heart as well, but a woman who had fought her own wars, had found her own peace, and lived—with a faith that would not fail her—for the day when the war would
end.

  “Tia, thank you so very much!” Alaina said, walking into the room. Tia drew a finger to her lips, indicating that Ariana slept in her arms.

  Alaina nodded, coming to the baby and taking her from Tia. She hugged her daughter close to her, smiling at Tia above the baby’s head. “I know I’m lucky. Some wives haven’t seen their husbands since this madness began. My God, I live and breathe for the days when he can come back, but I live in terror as well, always afraid that ...”

  “That the next thing you’ll hear is that there was a battle, and you cringe every time they read the list of the dead,” Tia finished softly for her.

  “I’m going to put her to bed in our room.” Alaina said. “I’ll be right back for Sean!”

  “Alaina, please, take your time.”

  “I can’t take too much time. Raymond Weir and his attendant have arrived. Your father and mother are serving drinks in the den, and your mother wants us down as quickly as possible. Taylor is here, too.”

  Tia arched a brow. You know Taylor as well?

  Alaina smiled. “Of course. He’s a second cousin to Sydney, Jerome, and Brent. I grew up near them, you know that. He was with your Uncle James frequently enough. I can’t believe the two of you never met!”

  “We did.”

  “What?”

  “When I was an infant,” Tia said quickly. “So I’ve been told.”

  “He’s been trying to stay out of the state; it’s very difficult for him to be here.”

  “It should be,” Tia muttered.

  “It’s difficult for Ian to be here as well,” Alaina said.

  “I know, and you know I love my brother—”

  “Of course. Just—well, don’t hate Taylor for being a Yankee. He really is an exceptional man. I had an awful crush on him when I was a child.”

  “Lovely,” Tia said. Alaina didn’t hear the sarcasm in her voice.

  “I’m surprised you didn’t meet him again. He was just ahead of Ian at West Point. They were both with General Magee when the war broke out, though assigned to different duty.”